There’s no great trick to using it, there’s this great flat area at the end of the nib, you plonk it on the paper and start to write (or draw, in my case; that’s why I bought it).
I’ve always had one of these brushpens, since they came out in the mid to late 1990’s (in the UK) when you could only get them from a few art shops. It was so great to be able to draw a line with a brush, and keep drawing & continue to draw & I’d sit & doodle with it for ages (which is how you start to become proficient) – letting the line wander, finding the limits, learning how to draw with the whole arm, not the fingers.
I’ve had many over the years, but I’m not capable of being too precious about things; I’m just too prone to losing stuff, and even the green & red barrel variant eventually disappeared (…I’ve never seen another).
So, coming to dig one out to lay down some dense black scudding lines (the ink is water-fast, the brush playful) I find that time and wear had blunted it; the fine point was no longer fine, so time to get a new one.
This little selection of pictures details the first drawing of ink for the new pen; they start out so pure white, and the ink (by capillary action) crawls up the threads of bristle – this is something that’s always fascinated me – I love that moment of the ‘birth’ of a new pen.
Black, hungry to be used…
….and the with the draw of medium complete the ink binds the bristles together to a glorious new point; you can start flicking it over the page, have it dance some new lines to make something; pull together some half conscious action between eye, brain & hand that (if you’re lucky) is a satisfying accumulation of lines; be it doodle or sketch.